


burning bright

by Bluebox_Parchment



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Getting Together, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Porn with Feelings, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Shipper!Sam, cas is unamused, dean tries to get cas laid, dean tries to hook cas up with a random girl, is it dirty talk if it's said through prayer?, no beta we die like men, prayer kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26587573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebox_Parchment/pseuds/Bluebox_Parchment
Summary: He’s halfway through frying bacon when Cas slides him over a mug of hot coffee and Dean stares at him like it’s the first time he’s ever seen him. ‘Cas, you’re family!’‘Thank you?’Dean waves the spatula in his direction, ‘You’ve not boned in Baby!’~Or the fic based on the promt: ...so where's the fic where Dean is like "Cas is family, that means he has to bone in the car... let's get him a date" and then ends with Dean taking one for the team.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 395





	burning bright

The idea dawns on Dean one Thursday morning as he makes his way towards the kitchen, rubbing at the grit in his eyes. Sam and Eileen are stumbling up from the garage, both looking a little rumpled. Sam’s shirt is on inside out. ‘You fucked in the car!’ Dean exclaims loudly. 

Sam has the decency to at least look a little abashed, whereas Eileen throws him a wicked dirty grin and signs, ‘And?’ Through a laugh she adds, ‘Sam said it was a Winchester right of passage.’ She smooths her hair a little, pats Sam’s ass and heads towards the bathroom. 

Dean offers Sam a shiteating grin. ‘Lock that down, Sammy.’ He continues on his way to the kitchen and finds Cas scowling at the coffee pot, apparently hoping the staring will make it hurry up. ‘Morning, Sunshine.’ Cas turns the scowl towards Dean. 

Sam gives an undignified snort behind him as he moves past them to get cereal from the cupboard. 

‘Shut up, Sam.’ His brother throws him an overly-cheery smile for someone that got caught with their pants proverbially around their ankles. ‘You’re the one that’s gonna be spending the rest of the day scrubbing Baby’s upholstery cause I swear if I find any nasty bodily fluid stains I will switch your shampoo with Nair.’

He’s rewarded with a bitchface but nothing more, and Sam stalks back out of the kitchen without another word.  _ Good _ .

He’s halfway through frying bacon when Cas slides him over a mug of hot coffee and Dean stares at him like it’s the first time he’s ever seen him. ‘Cas, you’re family!’

‘Thank you?’

Dean waves the spatula in his direction, ‘You’ve not boned in Baby!’

Cas pauses with his coffee mug against his lips, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. ‘No?’ 

Dean’s not sure why that would be a question, but he waves the spatula again. ‘It’s a tradition. A  _ family _ tradition. And you’ve missed out!’

Cas sips his coffee as though stalling for time. Dean tips the bacon from the pan, shoving a whole crispy piece in his mouth in one go. ‘Just so we’re clear,’ Cas says slowly, lowering the mug. ‘Because I’m family I’m supposed to… have intercourse in your car?’

Sam takes that moment to walk back into the kitchen. He stumbles down the step and hits the doorframe with an almighty crash. Dean laughs and takes a mouthful of his own scalding coffee. ‘No shame, Cas! We’ve all done it,’ he says, pointedly looking at Sam who’s rubbing his elbow where he’d hit the door jam. ' _ Some _ more recently than others.’

~~~

Dean leaves it for the next couple of weeks until they’re sitting in a bar in Oklahoma after clearing out a nest of vamps that’d been chowing down on pre-teens. An exceptionally pretty, dark haired waitress is bringing the three of them another round when her eyes linger on Cas a little longer than usual. Jackpot.

As she returns to the bar, Dean pats Cas’ shoulder and nods in her direction. ‘She was checking you out,’ he tells him.

Sam rolls his eyes so hard they almost fall out of his head and Cas shuffles in his seat a little awkwardly. 

‘Cas, c’mon!’ He bumps his shoulder into Cas’ and flashes him a toothy smile. ‘I’ll even let you have the keys to Baby if you wanna take her for a ride.’ He wiggles his eyebrow to ensure there’s no meaning lost in his words. Sam actually puts his head in his hands, like Dean might be embarrassing him somehow. 

Cas closes his eyes, slow and deliberate, as though praying for patience. 

‘Dean, if the guy doesn’t want to sleep around every state in the country, he doesn’t have to,’ Sam points out.

‘Nonsense, Sammy!’

Cas gives him a withering look, then tips back the last of his beer and shrugs out of the trenchcoat. He holds his hand out to Dean expectantly and wordlessly, Dean hands over the keys to the Impala.

Okay, so that was a lot easier than he’d expected. 

He watches, a little open-mouthed, as Cas makes his way to the bar and slides into a stool in front of the waitress. She lights up the second she catches sight of him, fluttering her eyelashes and biting suggestively at her bottom lip. From the way she’s behaving, it’s like Cas is the only person in the world. Something nasty twinges in Dean’s gut as he watches Cas’ face split into a brilliant smile, and he pointedly tries to ignore it. This was his idea, damnit. He takes another mouthful of beer, but it’s bitter on his tongue and he suddenly wishes it were something stronger.

Sam watches him carefully, glancing over his shoulder to Cas every now and then. Sam drains his own beer and looks over at Cas one last time. ‘Shall we head off then? I can call us an Uber.’

Dean scowls at his own empty bottle, and looks at Cas as well. He’s still laughing. The waitress is touching his forearm. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving Cas here alone in a place full of strangers.

Before he can stop himself, he’s up at the bar, clapping a hand on Cas’ shoulder, interrupting what must be a  _ highly _ fascinating story. ‘Me and Sammy are heading off. Still got the keys?’ 

There’s something dark in Cas’ gaze when he looks at Dean’s hand on his shoulder. ‘I have.’ 

Dean licks his lips and feels like an asshole. ‘So, uh, catch you later then?’ Suddenly, more than anything, Dean wants Cas to send that smile his way instead and tell him that he’s coming home with them.

Instead he gives a perfunctory nod and Dean knows he’s been dismissed. 

~~~

Dean being an idiot shouldn’t come as a surprise to Sam any more. Especially not when Dean’s being an absolute idiot where Cas is concerned. But somehow, watching his brother fall over himself to act like Cas picking up a girl wasn’t an issue was somehow more excruciating than getting caught between the pair of them when they have one of their staring competitions.

Sam had eyes. Somehow he thinks the pair of them forget that.

So now he’s stuck in a shitty motel room with a Dean who’s jumping at every car door or engine growl and who, he suspects, will be on the whiskey within the next half an hour unless Cas gets back soon. 

Sam pulls his laptop towards himself and pulls up an IM thread with Eileen.  _ Dean acted wingman for Cas _ , he types.

The three little dots scroll across the bottom of the thread and then her reply ticks in:  _ Wait, as in Dean hooked Cas up with someone else? _

_ Yup. _

_ But… I thought they were…  _

Sam laughs. Dean throws him a dirty look. ‘What’s funny?’ he snaps, jumping to his feet. Well shit, now he’s  _ pacing _ .

‘Nothing,’ Sam lies. ‘Eileen just sent over a dumb meme. You wouldn’t get it.’ He quickly types,  _ Yeah but try telling Dean that _ . Before snapping the lid down. 

Dean purses his lips and checks his watch. ‘He should be back by now.’ 

‘Dude, when was the last time one of your hookups took less than thirty minutes?’ 

‘Shut up, Sam! Last time Cas hooked up with someone he wound up getting shanked in the gut.’

_ Ah _ , Sam thinks. Getting a little closer to the real reason behind this behaviour. ‘Dean, Cas is an angel -’

‘He’s not got much grace left!’ 

‘He can take care of himself.’

But still, Dean paces like an anxious wife in a hospital waiting room. If Sam had a little less regard for his life, he’d probably snap a picture for later blackmail material. But Dean goes for the whiskey some five minutes later and he decides it’s not worth the risk.

~~~

The Impala drives smoothly as he heads away from Imogen’s apartment. She had been a perfectly lovely young lady; dark hair, dark eyes, and a beautiful smile. But as he pulled up outside her apartment and she leant across the consol towards him, he’d moved a little further back. 

There was a part of him that knew how simple it would be if he were to lean forwards, indulge her kisses, enjoy the sensation of her hands on his body, but…

The thought made him feel a little uneasy. Something about it didn’t feel at all right. Not when the car beneath him was Dean’s. The butter-soft leather of the steering wheel under his hands, the Led Zeppelin cassette in the deck, the smell of cologne, all of it was so unmistakably  _ Dean _ . This whole charade had been a ridiculous idea to begin with.

Imogen had flushed scarlet, apologising profusely for reading the signals all wrong. ‘You didn’t,’ he had told her gently. It didn’t spare her blushes. ‘It just wouldn’t be fair on you.’ 

As he swings the Impala into the motel parking lot, he’s sure in his choice. There’s a slight thrum under his skin as he puts the car into park and climbs out into the deserted lot. He’s taken a single step towards the motel room when the door swings open and there Dean stands, brows knitted together. He hears Sam’s voice echo around the concrete, an exasperated, ‘ _ Dean _ !’

Now that he’s stood facing Cas though, it seems Dean can’t quite form words, just soundlessly opens and closes his mouth. Behind him the motel door swings shut with a click. He wonders if Sam will let them both back in. He rakes his eyes down Dean’s body, taking in the dilated eyes, the flushed cheeks and rapidly quickening heart rate, and reckons probably not.

‘Well?’ Dean demands after a while, his eyes flicking between Cas and the backseat of the Impala, then back again.

Cas quirks a brow, looks over the Impala then leans his arms against the cool metal of her roof. He doesn’t miss the way Dean’s tongue involuntarily licks his lips; nor does he miss the hitch of Dean’s breath catching in his throat. Fallen angel he may be, but the little grace he does have is so in tune with every aspect of the man across the parking lot that his every action is deafening, consuming. 

When Cas doesn’t reply, Dean grows impatient and storms over to the car, his boots skittering tiny pebbles across the tarmac. ‘ _ Well _ ?’ Dean repeats, more insistent, when he’s but a foot away. 

And as though in receipt of a slow-motion premonition, he sees Dean’s hand grab his shoulder and spin him towards him, sees the hurt and the anger and the jealousy clear as day upon his face whilst he tries desperately to swallow them all down. He sees this turning ugly, with the only one truly suffering being Dean via his own self-inflicted wounds.

Which is why, rather than let Dean grab him, he takes a half-step backwards, lays a hand on Dean’s forearm, and stears him until his back is pressed against the driver’s side door. Cas has his mouth on Dean’s before he can possibly think through the implications of what he’s doing. 

He pulls back, relishes the way Dean’s lips try to chase his in spite of the punch drunk shock on his face. ‘No,’ he says firmly, his body pressed flush up against Dean’s. There’s no need to elaborate, Dean seems to know that he’s confirming he didn’t sleep with the waitress. Dean’s pulse quickens against his fingertips.

‘ _ Cas _ ,’ he groans. ‘This is - we don’t -’ His voice falters, his eyes drop back to Cas’ lips, back to his eyes. His pupils are so blown, there’s barely a ring of green around them. 

‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ Cas says simply. ‘And it’ll never happen again.’

He can practically see the cogs whirring in Dean’s head. See the battle raging as he tries to reign in the impulses, fabricate reasons as to why this is a terrible idea. But he’s so close that it’s a struggle not to hear the way Dean’s entire body is begging to be touched, the way his soul yearns for him to resume the kisses. But he’s still mad - he’s still  _ furious _ \- that Dean hasn’t quite figured this out by now that he won’t respond to unconscious prayer alone. If Dean wants this, he’s going to have to use his words.

Then something snaps; Dean surges forwards, his mouth hot, wet, hungry as it claims Cas’ with a violent precision. His tongue curls behind Cas’ teeth, his hands fist into his hair and drag him - somehow - closer and he jerks his hips forwards against Cas’ own, the hard line of his cock dragging against Cas’.

They break, lips wet and shining in the yellow light of the street lamp, bodies still flush together, breaths mingling. There’s a cocky gleam in Dean’s eyes as his tongue darts out once more. He blinks, slow, deliberate, flicks his gaze up to Cas and it  _ burns _ . ‘You’re not wrong,’ he says finally.

Cas crowds back in, nips his teeth against Dean’s bottom lip before grazing them against the pulse point of his neck. ‘Good.’ He laves the teeth marks with his tongue, running his hands down Dean’s sides, grounding himself as much as Dean. ‘That’s good.’ 

Dean’s mouth is on his again, his hips insistently pushing Cas back half a step as his left hand scrambles against the handle of the Impala’s back door, dragging it open whilst somehow still managing to keep a firm grip on Cas’ tie. It’s awkward, messy. Cas simultaneously wants to keep his mouth hot, wet, desperate, against Dean’s, whilst also sucking bruises into his clavicle, below his ear, scrape his teeth along his jaw. 

Dean breaks the frantic kisses, rips his overshirt off, discards it onto the floor of the Impala. Then with a quirk of his brow, eyes bright and blown, he sinks on to the backseat in a fluid motion, his legs bowing further apart; an invitation.

Cas follows him, was always going to. Because that has been his existence for the last decade. He seeks out Dean’s lips once more, ruts his body against Dean’s. Can’t get enough contact.

It’s awkward, there’s nowhere near enough space and Cas momentarily thrown by how absurd this is, how on earth Dean could possibly have thought this was somehow better than the comfort of a mattress and extra room, when Dean manages to get Cas’ pants undone, and rubs his hand along the hard length of Cas’ cock. Mouth pressing open kisses against the underside of Cas’ jaw, Dean groans a low and dirty, ‘ _ Fuck _ .’ The sound seems magnified in the confined space of the backseat, the suspension creaks with their desperate rutting and when Dean looks up at him through lidded eyes, his lashes dark against his flushed and freckled cheeks, his lips slick and swollen, a bruise purpling on his collarbone the exact shape as Cas’ teeth, he thinks he gets it. The lamplight fractures through the fogged up windows, shining starlight in the sweat on Dean’s skin. 

He’s paralysed by the sudden enormity of it all; of his inexperience, of his love, of his desperation, of the way Dean is spread beneath him just waiting to be consumed from the inside out. ‘ _ Fuck _ ,’ Cas echos, caught between wanting to fly away and remove any atom of space between the two of them. He rests his forehead against the rapid beat of Dean’s heart and tries to anchor himself back to there here and now.

Dean’s frantic groping slows a little, his fingers carding through Cas’ sweat-damp tresses. He keeps his mouth open and inviting, breath wet against Cas’ cheek. He doesn’t speak. No. Dean Winchester chooses to do something wholly worse, something so much better.

He  _ prays _ .

_ Need. Cas. Need you. _ He punctures these thoughts with a drag of lips along the bolt of Cas’ jaw.  _ Want you. _

Cas isn’t sure if Dean’s doing this on purpose, if he’s even aware of what he’s doing.  _ Don’t stop. Please.  _ Cas’ failing grace ignites with each unspoken word.  _ Please don’t stop. _

His fingers feel heavy as he fumbles over Dean’s zipper, as he tries, desperately, to get his jeans down. Dean’s prayed,  _ thank fuck _ , is all the encouragement he needs to drag down the offending denim until they’re pooled around Dean’s ankles.

Dean pushes the shirt from Cas’ shoulders, scratches blunt nails over Cas’ shoulder blades, and there’s a part of him that wishes he could manifest his wings into the corporeal world, tattered and broken as they are. Wishes he could feel Dean’s calloused fingers stroke through them and the thought is enough for Cas to pick up his pace.

Hands fumbling, legs tangling, mouths desperately seeking one another through heavily panted breaths, they manage to remove the majority of their clothing until their cocks are brushing together, all warm, silky skin slick with precome. ‘Want you,’ Dean breathes into Cas’ open mouth. And for good measure, he prays the words too. 

Cas’ head echos with every filthy thought that flitters through Dean’s mind. An unholy litany of  _ fuck me, want you, want to taste you, want to fuck you, split me open, need to feel you, always you _ that sets Cas’ blood afire. ‘C’mon,’ Dean groans, his heel pressing into Cas’ thigh, dragging him impossibly closer. ‘Not made of glass,’ he insists.

‘I know,’ Cas tells him, fisting their cocks together in his left hand and gripping Dean’s upper arm with the right. He wishes his mark was still there. And by the way Dean’s cock leaks as Cas’ hand tightens on his arm, he assumes Dean thinks the same. He bites at the exposed skin of Dean’s neck, runs his tongue over the red marks he leaves behind, languishes in the shiver it elicits. ‘So wet for me,’ Cas whispers into Dean’s ear. ‘Next time,’ and Dean’s prayers ratchet up in severity of  _ fuck yes more again _ , ‘next time, I’m going to open you up with my tongue.’

_ Please _ . Cas can’t even tell if it’s a prayer or spoken. ‘Next time,’ Cas breathes into his mouth as he jerks his hand, feels his own release building low in his gut. ‘I’m going to draw this out. Have you coming on my fingers. On my tongue. And when you’re strung out and spent, pliant and raw nerve,  _ then _ I’ll fuck into you.’ 

‘Cas-’  _ close, want, fuck, Cas, more _ .

He can feel the way Dean’s soul reaches for him, twines itself around him as fervently as his hands fisting into Cas’ hair. He drags their mouths together, teeth and tongue, wet and feral, and then Dean is losing his rhythm, coming in hot white stripes against his stomach, groaning Cas’ name right into his open mouth. 

He thrusts through the mess Dean’d just made, his own orgasm punching out of him, ricochetting through his grace. He can see every atom in the air, hear the beads of sweat and come sliding down the planes of Dean’s body, is overwhelmed by the sound of Dean’s heartbeat rapidly drumming against the ribs that still bear the marks of his carving. 

Dean lays beneath him, boneless and sated, chest heaving, an arm thrown over his face as he comes down from the high. ‘Fuck,’ he whispers and Cas hums his agreement, leaning down to kiss him again.

‘Next time,’ Cas says, breath ghosting against Dean’s wet lips, ‘we get a bed.’

Dean huffs a laugh, bumps his nose against Cas’ and looks up at him, a smirk playing on his coy smile. ‘Next time, eh?’

Cas pins him down again, ignoring the sticky cooling sensation of their combined release and grazes his teeth against Dean’s ear. ‘Your prayers are blasphemous, Dean. But I intend to answer every single one.’

He feels Dean’s blush, feels the warmth from it spread right down the other man’s body and smiles. ‘Yeah,’ Dean says, voice husky, overwhelmed. ‘Okay. Good.’

~~~

‘So,’ Eileen says, signing the word before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘How long have they been outside now?’ 

Sam glances down at the time then looks back at her. ‘About 40 minutes now,’ he tells her, taking his time to get his own signing right. She smiles encouragingly, meaning he got the gestures correct. ‘The car hasn’t left the lot yet which means neither of them have stormed away from an argument yet.’

‘I’m sure they’re doing something a whole lot more fun than arguing,’ Eileen says, giving Sam a wink, and he’s momentarily reminded of what  _ they _ had got up to on the backseat of the Impala.

‘I really don’t want to think about that.’ He brushes his hair back, gives an exaggerated stretch and catches sight of Eileen’s eyes lingering low through the screen at the bare patch of Sam’s stomach. ‘We’ll be back at the bunker in a couple days, unless one of them has killed the other. You going to be back that way?’

‘I can swing by.’ Her smile is wicked in a way that Sam feels right down to his toes. 

The motel door bangs open and a thoroughly dishevelled Dean stumbles in, balled-up plaid in one hand, his undershirt on inside out, a few ugly bruises marking his neck. Cas follows him, his hair looking more windswept than when he used to fly around the place, his belt is undone, his shirt buttons are done up in the wrong holes and where his trench coat or suit jacket have disappeared to, Sam has no idea.

He scowls at the pair of them, wrinkles his nose at the stench of sweat and sex that follows them into the room. ‘What?’ Eileen asks. ‘What’s happening?’

Sam shakes his head in disgust and silently spins the laptop around as Cas sits down at the kitchen table and Dean stops halfway across the room to the bathroom. ‘ _ Oh! _ ’ He can literally hear the smile in Eileen’s voice. ‘You  _ were _ doing something a hell of a lot more fun than arguing!’

Cas’ face flames, something Sam wasn’t aware was possible for an angel, but Dean gives a cocky smile and flawlessly signs, ‘Better believe it sister.’

Eileen laughs in delight and Sam shakes his head, exasperated. Grossed out though he may be, watching the two of them making soft eyes at each other across the room actually brings him a sense of peace. He pulls the laptop back around thinking it’s about damn time. 

The peace doesn’t last long, not when Dean leans against the bathroom door frame and leers towards Cas, cocking his head back to the room behind him. ‘You coming?’ he asks by way of invitation. Something dark passes over the angel’s eyes and then he’s launching himself across the room.

‘Oh come  _ on _ !’ Sam shouts, snapping the lid of his laptop down and snatching up his duffle. ‘I’m still here, assholes!’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely people over at the Profound Bond discord for the promt.  
> Feel free to come and join the fun @ https://discord.gg/profoundbond :) 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @pocketsized_prophet.tumblr.com


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